Page 1 of My Bratva Dom

One

Tina

I told my family I was just coming home for a quick visit. But really, I’m here to make sure Marie’s okay.

Last time I was in town, my sister was still working with our dad at his accounting firm and going on an endless string of first dates. Now, she’sMrs. Viktor Maksimov!Married to a freaking Bratva boss, living in a mansion with guards, tall iron gates, and a man who probably eats bullets for breakfast.

Marie and I are only a couple of years apart, but my sister is the quiet, easygoing one, and I’m the loud, sassy mouth. She lived with our parents until she graduated from college and started working with our father. Me? I left the house the minute I turned eighteen. Mom and dad wanted me to study something safe and boring like my father and sister. I said, fuck that. I wanna write songs.

So after a couple of years of working odd jobs, busting my ass in music school, and not really seeing how I could make it in our hometown, I packed my shit and moved to New York. Now, sixmonths later, I feel like I’m even further from my big Broadway dreams.

I haven’t told anyone yet, but I’m thinking of moving back home. The city is not what I thought. The tiny apartments, chaotic roommates, asshole boyfriends who treat me like shit, crappy jobs that barely pay the rent… the constant grind. I need a fucking break.

* * *

I’m still wrapped up in my thoughts when I spot him near the terminal exit. Tall, broad, and scowling like he’s two seconds away from putting someone in a chokehold.

Uh… do criminal organizations recruit male models now? ‘Big, bad, and hot as hell’ doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Marie described my ride to her place, Aslan, Viktor’s right-hand man, as a man who barely talks and never smiles. And this guy, with his gorgeous features, deep frown, muscles everywhere, and black suit,hasto be Aslan Antonov.

His ice-blue eyes lock on me the second I step outside the airport. Jee-zus… The way he’s scowling at me makes my pulse beat faster and my clit tingle.What the hell, Tina?

I adjust my bag on my shoulder, plaster on a smile, and stride toward him.

* * *

“Aslan?”

His gaze narrows.

“Tina.”

That’s it. No smile, no greeting. Just my name said low and short.Oookay then…

I flash him a big, bright grin like I wasn’t just pretty much bitch-slapped.

“Nice to meet you.”

He doesn’t answer. Just takes my bag from me, turns and walks away like I don’t even exist.

I stand there blinking for a few seconds, watching his massive body move toward a gleaming black Maybach double-parked at the curb.

“Well, hello to you too,” I mutter to myself, following him. “With your rude, sexy ass.”

* * *

I’m in the backseat of the most luxurious car I’ve ever been in. All plush, creamy leather and shiny dark woods. With so much space, it feels like a small studio apartment. And being me, I attempt conversation with the grumpiest man I’ve ever met.

“Boston doesn’t change, huh?” Nothing. “Always freezing. Guess I shouldn’t have worn this top.” I tug at the hem of my sweater. Not because I’m actually cold, but because Aslan’s eyes slid to my chest for a half-second when I got in the car.

Listen, I take my fun where I can find it.

I smile sweetly in the mirror. Aslan’s fingers flex on the steering wheel.Interesting.I lean forward in the space betweenthe two front seats. “You’re not much of a talker, huh?” He grips the wheel tighter. “You know, you could at least,”

“Sit back.” His deep voice cuts through the air in a low, gravelly rumble that instantly makes my nipples stand to attention. Shit, my entire body.

I blink, feeling completely out of sorts. My skin tingles all over, my clit pulses, my pussy spasms. I stare, jaw slack.

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